


Meanwhile, Aboard the Razor Crest

by ash-the-emotionally-distraught-fanchild (pancakewithapen)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: BAMF Baby Yoda, Because I can, Cara Dune is a little shit, Lil' baby yoda, ManDadlorian, Not really Canon compliant but use your imagination chirren, POV Cara Dune, POV Din Djardin, Protective Din Djarin, The Razor Crest is awesome, also behold this new tag i found:, baby yoda is an innocent angel but also no one touches Din without getting force-i-fied, back away slowly while you still can, bloody nose, din is probably loki's brother or something if you get my drift, no POV from the Child but we'll see ig, no swearing it's all just wholesome fluff, nothing to heavy though don't worry friends, ok sorry it turns out there is some fighting, still kind of a little shit but also a good friend Cara Dune, super protective Din Djardin, too many star wars universe references, um idk if this counts but i guess some mild angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:15:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27461812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pancakewithapen/pseuds/ash-the-emotionally-distraught-fanchild
Summary: “Pa-pa!” The child cried happily.Din froze like he’d been caught in a search light, staring at the kid in shock.----In which Cara teaches the Child his first word, and Din plots Cara's murder
Relationships: Din Djarin & Cara Dune, Din Djarin & The Child, The Child & Cara Dune
Comments: 39
Kudos: 471





	1. Cara Teaches the Child His First Word

**Author's Note:**

> oh, no. this is the first work i post to Ao3?
> 
> well, do or do not, i guess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> leave constructive criticism pls and ty!

“He’s not my son. Stop calling him that.”

Cara shrugged. “I mean you kind of act like he’s your son.”

Din sighed, a classic Din move. “No, I don’t.”

The Child looked back and forth between them like they were playing Gooth-ball. He (at least Cara thought it was a he?) was still gnawing on the dried seaweed Cara had brought him from Kamino. At least he seemed to enjoy it.

“Yeah. You do,” Cara said in a clipped voice, crossing her arms. She gestured to the child. “He probably thinks you’re his dad anyway.”

Din sighed. Again.

“I’m going up to the cockpit,” Din grumbled, “Keep an eye on the kid.” He pushed past Cara and headed up the ladder.

A few seconds went by, and Cara heard the fsshh of the door sliding open and closed. She sat down on a rations crate, near the child

After a minute of thought, Cara snorted, having thought of something.

“Din would kill me,” she though out loud, grinning. She reached down and picked the child up-who’d been wandering around aimlessly, Din had no clue it was a bad decision to leave him by himself-and put him on her lap. The child giggled, making a quiet "weeeee!"

“Okay, kiddo,” she said, patting him on the head for extra super-cool-aunt-points, “I’m gonna teach you your first word. Ready?”

The child made an high-pitched “Eh?” noise.

“Great. Repeat after me.”

It was a long process-mainly because the child took a few minutes to realize he was supposed to repeat was she was saying, not try and eat her fingers-but they got there. Cara was about to trick Din into coming down to the passenger bay (by yelling something like ‘oh my god is that a giant ice spider’ to take advantage of Din’s supposed PTSD) but she heard the cockpit door open before she could fully formulate the thought.

Din hopped off the ladder, going to the supply rack. “We’ll get there in a couple hours, I changed the route to avoid some pirates. If you want to get some sleep-“

Cara tapped the Child on the arm, giving him the signal.

“Pa-pa!” The child cried happily.

Din froze like he’d been caught in a search light, staring at the kid in shock.

Cara snorted. She couldn’t see Din’s face, but she’d have bet two hundred credits and her A280 blaster rifle it was equal parts hilarious and endearing.

“What-what did you say?” Din asked slowly, still trying to reboot his head, which seemed to have temporarily shut down.

“Pa-pa!” The child repeated, excited. Then the kid started making little grabby hands at Din, wanting to be picked up.

Din’s head shot up to Cara accusingly. “I-What did you do? Did you teach him to say that?”

“It’s his first word,” Cara said, shrugging indifferently. “I’m so proud of him.”

Din’s shoulders slouched in defeat. He reached down and picked up the child, who giggled again. "Papapapapapapa-"

Cara could practically hear him blushing.

“I’m never leaving you alone with the kid again,” Din warned, turning to go to his room.

“You mean your son?”

Din sighed _again_ (is that his immediate reaction to everything or something?) and ignored her, climbing up into the loft and closing the door after one final glare for spice. Cara deemed her mission an absolute success.

(And, because Cara was _such_ a good friend, she decided to pretend she didn’t hear Din’s attempts to shush the child’s cheerful choruses of “Papa! Papa! Papa!”)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so a few weeks after i posted this trash i noticed the Child's wikipedia article lists 'The Mandalorian' as the Child's adoptive father and guys 
> 
> i am 
> 
> literally
> 
> _dying_


	2. Din Has Symtoms Of Fatherly Protectiveness (That He Denies Like A Champ)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Papa...?" The kid muttered, looking up to Din curiously.
> 
> One of the stormtroopers strode forward and picked the kid up by the scruff of his robe, pointing the tip of his weapon towards his face, and Din saw red.
> 
> _No one touches his kid._

Din was stoic. He was emotionless. He didn’t care for familial relations, or friendships, or any sort of affection, for that matter. He was a cold-blooded bounty hunter. An assassin. His kill count had gone so high, Din hadn’t bothered to keep track. The way of Mandalore was all he knew.

So why did the very fact he was alone-completely alone, like he was supposed to be-make his heart want to jump out of his throat?

Because they’d taken his kid. 

_No one takes his kid._

It took every last bit of Din's willpower to maintain his ebbing patience and not storm down to that Empire-wanna-be base and blow it to a million pieces.

So there goes that ‘stoic and emotionless’ theory.

Din, as much as he hated the thought of admitting Cara was right, started to see what she had meant, back when they’d only been on their way to the planet Corellia.

_You kind of act like he’s your son._

There goes the ‘doesn’t care for family’ theory.

Din had just dropped Cara off at a city, where her next bounty was supposedly hiding. He then headed to the small village they'd agreed on as a rendezvous point to refuel, gather supplies, and clean up.

Which might have been his worst mistake ever. Of course other bounty hunters had been waiting. Because Corellia.

Din adjusted the scope on his gun, forcing his hands to stop shaking. He rested on his stomach from a high vantage point, studying the base’s layout and patterns. It’d only been an hour, but a lot of things can happen in an hour, and as mentioned above, Din's patience was ever-thinning.

He slipped out from his hiding spot, making his way down the hill, using the jungle’s bushes and trees for cover.

The side door he’d been stalking for the past thirty minutes slid open right on time. Two troopers marched out side by side, walking without glancing back.

Din materialized behind them, slipping inside the base with stealth rival to a fyrnock.

The door closed with a barely audible click.

Din should have _really_ seen this coming by now.

Two troopers jumped out of the shadows, attacking Din from either side-he shot one in the chest, got a painful blast on his left forearm from the second-but they both laid out on the ground within seconds.

He checked them over for any sort of alarms. Clear.

Din followed the old bounty tracker in his palm-the steady flash of red started to slowly speed up. The kid was nearby. Din repressed a sigh of relief.

 _Infiltration from North East entrance._ A cold female voice announced over the speakers. _Building on lockdown._

Din repressed a sigh of disappointment.

He broke into a small control room, and after a frantic fight put up by technicians, Din had the location of where they were keeping his kid.

The hall leading to his cell was vacated.

It was all happening too fast. It was all too easy.

Din really, _really_ should have seen this coming by now.

A blast ricocheted off Din’s armor, making him stumble forward. A rod caught his front, throwing him back. Two blasts to the uncovered area of arms. Pain flared everywhere and blinded his mind for a second. But only for a second.

He was a cold-blooded bounty hunter and assassin, trained to kill from birth. That theory remained almost certainly intact.

Din jumped up, flaming the first trooper he saw in the side. Fired another in the chest. Shot a third in the head. An arm grappled him from behind, and Din had to elbow the trooper twice before he loosened the grip enough to judo-flip him over his shoulder. He momentarily paused, trying to not focus on the pain flaring in his forearm from the cut earlier, but it didn't work.

A kick to his back. Din fell, catching himself in lowered push-up stance. His helmet cut at his face on the impact. A shot to the back of his leg, and Din’s mind went blank with pain again. Someone brutally flipped him over, increasing the bruise on his back.

Blood filled his nose. It was warm.

The tip of a blaster forced itself under the rim of his helmet-Din could see the face of the man about to shoot him, and the eight-ten-twelve other sliders that stood behind him. Din readied a corkscrew maneuver-

The trooper flied off him. They crashed into what sounded like a pile of crates. Din’s ears rang, head throbbing as it tried to remember how to stand up. He glanced to the side, and saw a familiar green creature waddling toward him, hand extended and eyes closed.

"Kid?" Din said, rolling back to his feet. The rest of the troopers readied their blasters-three pointed at Din, nine pointed at the kid-and the child giggled, completely unconcerned.

"Papa!" The kid chirped.

"Stand down!" One trooper ordered, and the child flinched.

It was barely a look of discomfort, even, but Din decided that one would die first.

"Papa...?" The kid muttered, looking up to Din curiously.

Another trooper strode forward and picked the kid up by the back of his robe, pointing the tip of his weapon towards his face, and Din saw red.

The whirling birds only took out eight of the troopers, leaving four for Din-one got shot-another knocked over a rail-the third decapitated.

One left.

They readied their blaster, aiming for the child they held on their hands.

Din repressed his urge to cut him to pieces. That would mean the child got hurt, which was wholly unacceptable.

"Don't move, or we'll open fire."

Din heard the noise of more footsteps down the hall. More troopers, en route.

"Stand. Down."

The child squirmed. "Papa?"

He could never risk the child's life.

"I surrender," Din muttered, kneeling on the floor. Pain rocketed up his leg, making him wince, but he dismissed it. The child made a sad humming sound, like he was going to cry, and Din's heart might have just shattered into a million pieces.

Din tossed his weapons on the floor, making a big show of remorse and disappointment.

"Heh. Good choice," the trooper said, sounding relieved. They kicked Din's weapon aside, stepping closer, but not close enough.

Patience was impossible, but Din _waited_ as the trooper walked behind him, counting their steps-the rest of the troopers were closing in, he could hear the clanging slowly getting louder and louder.

Din swung up, ignoring the screaming bolt of pain in his side as the trooped tried to shoot at him in defense-but they were too slow, and Din knocked the trooper to the ground.

The child clung to Din's shoulder armor, making panicked squealing noises. The rest of the platoon emerged from the corner, almost to fast. Almost.

Din threw a concussion grenade with a three-second detonation and ran, clutching the child as close to his chest as possible to protect him.

The room exploded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have listened to Aerosmith’s Sweet Emotion while writing this and I do not regret it lol
> 
> (( _wow_ this is short, jesus christmas))
> 
> leave constructive criticism down below pls and ty!!! :D :D
> 
> like seriously spelling errors are my worst nightmare


	3. Din's Heart Melts Without His Permisson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cara teaches the Child another word.
> 
> \----
> 
> oof, Din's hurt in this one so if you have a phobia of injuries don't read
> 
> i have no excuses anymore, i just really want the Child to save Din's life constantly until he inevitably questions his emotional integrity

Rained poured like sleet down the sides of the Razor Crest's hull.

"Papa!”

“Stop calling me that.”

The kid waddled toward Din, offering him some dried seaweed.

"No, thanks, kid. I’m hurt right now," Din said, "Go to your bed and get some sleep. While you can."

"Papa," the child said firmly in his sweet high voice. He kept coming closer anyway.

Din sighed, unable to muster enough energy to move the child back into his cradle. Walking back to the ship after the fight with the troopers had been hard enough. Convincing Cara he could take care of himself was slightly harder. The last of his energy waned, and Din couldn’t even move freely enough to wrap his wounds in gauze.

Din leaned up against the inner wall of the Razor Crest, comforted by the familiar hum of its engine. The kid was safe, and that’s all that mattered.

Cara had gone up to the cockpit a couple minutes ago to set route away from Corellia. She'd told him she was planning to get some rest too, but only once they were safely out of the system. After their negotiation, she'd finally promised to leave him be.

Then again, she’d _also_ promised him that she wouldn’t teach the child any more words, and that one went out the window almost immediately.

Din felt a small hand on his arm.

"Love...papa," the child said, muttering with such focus and determination it made Din’s heart want to melt.

“Don’t say that,” Din ordered, trying to move the kid away from him. Unfortunately, his heart wasn’t with the program, and made the movement half-hearted and barely noticeable. Seconds later, the pain in his arm evaporated. The wound sealed, leaving nothing but a pale scar. Even that mark vanished too, a few seconds later.

Din froze. The child, wholly unfazed by his reaction, hobbled over to the Mandalorian’s side as he stared in shock. Finally, he managed a stunned, "How did you do that?"

"Papa," the child responded cheerfully, trying to reach the giant gash along Din's side. “Love."

Touch.

Soon that wound disappeared too.

The child tried to reach a drip of blood that'd come out from underneath Din's helmet-he had a cut on his cheekbone.

"No, you can't heal that one," Din said, "You can't see my face."

The child moped when he realized Din wasn't going to help him. "Papa?"

"No," Din refused half-heartedly, sounding less firm then he’d intended. He tried to pick the child up off his lap, but the pain and adrenaline was wearing off, and his exhaustion was catching up to him.

The child's huge, shining eyes forced Din to admit it was incredibly reassuring to have the child as close as possible.

Din let out a long sigh. "Don't worry about me. Get some sleep, I'm sure you're tired."

The child grumped, but he stopped reaching upward. Considering the issue dismissed, Din closed his eyes and let himself go to sleep.

Din didn't know how long he'd actually managed to rest when he jolted awake from the sudden rush of cold air to his face.

His helmet flew off of his head, crashing into something on the other end of the ship. Din's heart jumped to a million beats-per-minute.

"Hey-what the-"

"Papa!" The child cheered in triumph, and Din felt a warm tiny-hand-sized weight land on his cheek. The kid had clambered up to the box beside him, now at eye level.

Din went perfectly still, steadying his breathing as he listened to the child hum to himself in focus. The kid's eyes were still closed. After a few creepy seconds of Din feeling his own skin knot itself back together, the child squeaked and fell backward with a high-pitched _"Eek!"_.

"Hey, careful-" Din lurched forward, catching him before he hit the floor. The child giggled.

"You okay, kid?" He asked, frowning a bit as his own voice startled him. Without the helmet's muffling or filtering, it sounded so loud and crisp, and clearly thick with concern.

The child yawned tiredly, and his eyes drooped closed.

The kid had _fallen asleep in Din's arms._

Blood heated up his face. Din sat there frozen for a couple minutes completely unsure of what to do. Eventually he decided to continue cuddling with-no, cuddling was a weird word. He decided to let the kid keep sleep there, instead of putting him back in the cradle.

Din rested the back of his bare head against the wall. The metal of the ship was slightly warm, continuing to hum quietly. He didn’t want to retrieve the helmet. Besides, the kid’s eyes seemed to have been closed the whole time. The creed still remained intact.

Oh, god. When Cara sees this.

The child made a cute snoring noise in his sleep, and all worry and stress immediately vanished from Din's shoulders.

No, Cara was never going to let him forget this. It was worth it for the kid, though.

 _His_ kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so how was it?
> 
> i hope ok lol I know it's short
> 
> ALSO spelling and formatting errors exist, _pLeAsE tElL mE_


End file.
